Ice Cream
by WritingRum
Summary: Chipped Cup and Baby Blanket. Emma and Mr Gold talk.
1. Chapter 1

**AU**: This story is the result of a role play between EusYram and RumpelGold. The story is thus co-written and focuses on the GoldxEmma Pairing. Credit goes to both authors.

_Disclaimer:_ No copyright infringement intended.

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**Ice Cream 1 **

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Emma bustled into the station with a cone of ice cream in her hand. She was in a bit of a hurry for the soft serve was melting and threatened to drip onto her skin. There was no way she'd be letting the ice cream go to waste, considering how long it took her just to pick out the flavor.

What do you get a man who just beat another man? She didn't see Mr. Gold as a cotton candy or bubblegum type, so she decided to compromise and get a half-chocolate, half-vanilla soft serve. That's how she saw him, anyway - with a dark half and a light half. And if she wanted to get to know him, she needed to get something somewhere in the middle.

Two things became evident to Emma as soon as she had walked into the station and set her eyes on Mr. Gold - two differences between the state of the station as it was when she left it and the state it was in now. There was the chipped cup which now inexplicably sat on the bench beside Gold, and then there was Gold himself. She could only guess he was trying his best to hide it, but Emma knew he was worked up over something, or rather had been very recently. The cup, the lone witness, had to have held the answer.

Mr Gold looked up when he heard footsteps approach and placed his hands on his knees. The cup, which he thought so hard to set aside, now stood proudly next to him on the bench, but in such a way it was impossible for it to fall down and shatter. He would defend it with his life, guard it as being the most precious thing in his control.

His brown eyes slowly slid back to the sheriff who came to stand in front of the cell with a cone in her hands and a pensive expression on her face. It made Mr Gold lick his lips before clearing his throat and finding back his voice in order to ask her.

"I see you didn't forget?" He pointed at the cone with one hand and waited for her reply, a small smirk on his face. "You take me to be the half-vanilla, half-chocolate man?" He pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned at her, but despite his face contorting his smile remained, showing his good will.

In the moments it took the thoughts and conclusions to race through her mind, Emma did not notice the soft serve melt and trickle down the cone. A cold wet drop of it fell onto her hand, and Emma blinked as she was called out of her reverie. Gold was saying something to her, something about what kind of man she took him for. Good question. Then he made that face, as though he was not pleased with the kind of ice cream she got him. She raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it."

Mr Gold watched as a trail of melted ice made its way down the cone and onto her hand while she smirked at him. She took a napkin out of her pocket and wrapped it around the cone before the ice cream had the chance to drip onto the floor. He quickly composed himself and posed her a smile.

"No, I'll have it. I'm already grateful you bought me something. A man gets hungry in prison, you know."

He teasingly raised a brow as he reached out a hand between the bars in order to grab the cone. His brown eyes had darted to her hands again, thinking it was a shame to have her use the napkin. If only he could reach for her hand, draw it close to him and lick the melted ice cream away.

Emma felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she realized Gold had noticed the ice cream drip onto her fingers. She did not particularly enjoy the idea of him thinking of her as clumsy or messy. She found this strange, however, seeing as how she could not think of a single reason why she should care about what Gold thought of her. At least so she told herself.

His brown eyes darted back up to hers. "Emma," He said, voice huskier than usual, "Thank you."

"You owe me two bucks," she joked, trying to act nonchalant in the midst of her embarrassment. "Or, if you like, this ice cream can be that favor of yours you won't tell me about."

She hurriedly shoved the ice cream cone into Gold's outstretched hand, accidentally colliding her fingers with his and smearing ice cream onto his skin. She withdrew her hand even quicker at the unexpected contact. Wishing to clean off her fingers as soon as possible, she reached into her pocket for another napkin, only to realize she had brought no more from the store. Desperate, she quickly licked the ice cream off of her fingers instead.

In front of her she could see a similar scene take place. Mr Gold had nipped the side of his hand with his lips, flicking out his tongue to get rid of the melted ice cream that had been transferred from Emma's hand to his own. His dark eyes didn't betray his thoughts as he started licking and nibbling from his treat.

"Like I said," he said in between licks and nibbles, "when I come to collect my favor it'll be a lot more than a cone." He licked his lips.

"You can have two bucks of me. I'd like to hand them to you know but I want to finish this before it drips all over me." He gestured at himself. "suits are expensive to clean."

He continued licking while he peered at her through half-lidded eyes, a pensive expression now taking hold of his face. But no question followed.

Emma did not really give a second thought to Gold licking the ice cream from his hand. She thought he simply did not like getting dirty considering how impeccably clean those expensive suits he always wore were. Why wear exclusively suits anyway? She decided to save the question for another day.

"Tell you what," she now said with a playful smile. "I'll make you a deal. You can hold on to your two bucks if you tell me what that cup is all about."

She had a feeling her demand was a long shot, but she could not help but be curious about the cup. Besides, she had faint hope that playing Gold's own game would entice him enough to take the deal.

His eyes darkened and for a moment he forgot licking until some of the ice that had melted reached his finger and he had to lick it clean.

"That deal would require more than just 2 bucks." He said sternly, eyes hardening as he stared in front of him and with jaw set continued licking his ice.

"The cup's history is personal to me." He murmured between bites. "I don't like to talk history."

After a moment of silence he gently cocked his head at her. "I might tell if you're willing to 'up' your side of the deal."

Emma narrowed her eyes and sighed. She had little reason to be disappointed seeing as she had anticipated such a response from the beginning, but she was disappointed nevertheless.

"I'm not going to up anything," she said, a little more firmly than she had intended. "In fact, I'll even let you keep your money. You see, I have the feeling I can answer my own question." She sat down on the arm of the sofa in front of the cell, and her facial expression eased a little.

"There's one thing which strikes me as inconsistent about the reason you're behind those bars, and that thing is motive, both on French's part and on yours. When you told me who had robbed you and why, I knew immediately there had to be more to it than that. Did you yourself not tell me you are the most feared person in Storybrooke? You did, which is why I began to ask myself where Moe French got the courage to risk his neck in robbing you to avenge something as trivial as a taken truck. Clearly, someone else had her hand in the matter, someone capable of offering Moe protection if something were to go wrong, and the only person Moe would believe was capable of protecting him was, of course, Regina. Then I began to wonder what Regina had to gain from all this. I figured she wanted something specific stolen, a valuable of some kind, so I was desperate to find Moe and the stolen goods before he was able to pass them on to her. I wanted dirt on her. Of course, a few odds and ends and some antique kitchenware was definitely not what I was expecting to find. But then you said I had recovered nothing, so I realized something valuable was taken from you, but Moe must've been able to pass it on to Regina before I got to him. I can only assume the antiques were his end of the bargain. My guess is he planned to sell them and buy himself a new truck, but that isn't important right now. What's important is that you nearly killed him because of the object he took from you, which lead me to believe it was more than a mere valuable. At the end, you were screaming at him about a mysterious "she" who you said was gone, so were you avenging the object or the girl? Or are the object and the girl one and the same in your eyes? In any case, I realized Regina was after more than just money. She wanted an ace up her sleeve to manipulate you with. I figured that's why she came to see you, and that cup beside you tells me she was successful. The cup is what she took from you, isn't it? It's easy to see that it's a token of a lost loved one. I have one, too." Her fingers subconsciously travelled to the sheriff's badge on her belt, but her eyes were still fixed firmly on Gold. "It's my baby blanket. It's the only token I have left of my parents, and if someone were to take it from me... well, let's just say bad things happen to bad people."

She gave him a smile then, a genuinely warm, understanding smile. She had never told anyone before how far she was willing to go to protect that blanket, but she hardly thought Gold would judge her for it.

For a while all Mr Gold could do was stare at her, his gaze intensifying and darkening with every second that ticked away, as he scrutinized the badge on her belt which she was holding in her hands. He had to applaud her tactics for winning information out of him for so far none had succeeded in addressing his feelings and making him open up; none but her.

"Your research has been thorough." He finally stated, his cone finished and his attention fully upon her.

"You would harm someone to keep your _possession_ close?" He murmured, and instead of the frown that would have been expected with the tone his voice carried he gave her a small smile. "I admire that in you, Emma. Your honesty and your way of being open about things. You wouldn't step back from a fight, you would enhance it if it'd benefit you."

His fists clutched the bars and he licked his lips.

"Perhaps one day I will tell you of my cup, if you will show me your baby blanket," he cocked his head, thinking of something and making up his mind.

"Do we have a deal?"

He did not deny anything she had said, and that was the best she had hoped for. She felt closer to him now than she had ever felt before.

"Deal," she said, taking her hand away from her badge and holding it out for him to shake.

The smile on his face grew as she extended her hand to him and without hesitation he took it and gave it a firm shook. His thumb brushed past the mouse of her hand, delicately touching the skin of her palm. His hand was warm in hers, long slender fingers curling around hers to make her hand form a fist which he held in his own. His brown eyes penetrated hers.

"She dropped the cup and it chipped." He whispered to her, voice low and sensual. "That's why it's dear to me. On her first day she dropped it. I could never get rid of it, nor would I want to."

He pressed his head between the bars, drawing it closer to hers, licking his lips as his eyes darted to hers in a gesture that suggested he wanted to kiss her.

"So..." He dipped his head forth, lips only mere inches away from hers.

Emma sat rooted to the spot in something similar to shock. Her stormy eyes were fixed on Gold's lips, which were so unnecessarily close to her own. _Why is he still holding my hand?_ A part of her wanted to let go and withdraw just as she had done her entire life, but at the same time this tense, unnatural closeness felt so _right_ to her.

"Who was she?" she whispered without raising her eyes.

He smirked at her.

"You show me your baby blanket first," He leaned in, whispering, "and then I'll talk." His breath tickled her skin as he drew close and just as sudden he had retreated and sat back on the bench. His brown orbs were fixed in front of him and his hands folded between his knees. His cane stood proudly aside and his cup was seemingly forgotten - though not really.

For a moment he enjoyed the awkward silence that hung between them, only then he clicked his tongue and smirked. His eyes found hers again.

"What do you expect of the future, Emma?"

When he had leaned close, her eyes shut of their own accord. She felt his warm breath on her parted lips and for a moment she thought - Never mind. There was nothing but cold air against her lips once again, and his hand had let go of hers. She opened her eyes to see him sitting back down on the bench as if nothing had happened. Her brows furrowed. Did he honestly just try to... _tease_ her? Did he honestly think it'd _work?_ Because it didn't. Of course it didn't.

He smirked at her now, and she smirked back, wanting to let him know she saw right through his little game.

"You know, I'm worried about you, Mr. Gold."

He licked the corner of his lips as he glanced aside. His hand rested on his knee and on it rested his weight. It was obvious he was amused.

"That is not an answer. Do you expect me to reply?" He looked at her again with brown eyes twinkling.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about me, Miss Swan. I'd worry about you. After all, you are the town's sheriff and Regina's main target. I am just the unlovable man the town tries to get rid of."

It was as good an answer as he could've expected considering what he'd just done, Emma thought to herself, but decided to keep that particular thought silent.

"I may be Regina's target in the long run," she said, her tone growing serious, concerned, "but she appears to be targeting you at the moment. What did she want in exchange for that cup? I can assumed it wasn't an object seeing as all you had on you was a suit and a cane, so she must've wanted information. What did she ask?"

He merely smirked and looked away again, then, when their eyes crossed once more, he showed his teeth in a hostile snarl and referred to her earlier question, seemingly thinking it to be better to answer than her last which in his opinion was too personal.

"And that is why you worry about me, Emma?" The way he stressed her name almost made it sound like she was a possession too.

"Because you think I hold a card that can be used against Regina? If you want my help sheriff, like I said before, you need merely ask."

Emma leaned forward toward the bars, her hands firmly on her knees, her eyes steady and fearlessly holding his, and her face demanding his full attention.

"I worry about you, _Mr. Gold,_ because I'm afraid whatever card you have held against Regina, you've just given away."

Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. She spoke slowly, rhythmically, accentuating every word so that the meaning came across plainly and clearly.

The muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes darkened. Once again she had him caught.

He sat down and folded his hands in front of him as his gaze turned to the floor. How could he tell her he'd given away his true name? She hardly believed the tales of her destiny, and lying wasn't a thing Gold could do.

"Presumably, yes. I gave her a confirmation."

There, it was vague but not a lie. He wondered how the blonde would reply to that.

She sat back, crossing her arms, looking both satisfied and apprehensive.

"What kind of a confirmation?"

"Miss Swan, are you done interrogating me?" He asked annoyed, wrinkling his nose at her as he talked.

"If you show me your blanket _or_ if you get me out of here I might feel more inclined to talk." He smirked now.

She could have been angry with him then, but she was not. The feeling was closer to amusement.

"You know, for a man who's so adamant about us being allies, you seem awfully reluctant to work together," she said, smirking a little. "I did make you a deal about my baby blanket, so I will show it to you in time. As for getting you out of here, well... I do have the right to keep you for 48 hours following an arrest. Then it all depends on if Mr. French decides to press charges or not, which I strongly doubt he will now that he knows Regina doesn't have his back. So, since I have better things to do than keep you locked up for the next two days, I suppose you're a free man, Mr. Gold."

She got up from her seat on the arm on the sofa, unlocked the cell door, and held it open for him.

"Now... what did you tell Regina?"

He nearly rolled his eyes for truly was it this hard for her to let go? Then again it was just as he had expected it too. It was a characteristic of her he admired. It was one of the many things that attracted him to her. He let out a dramatic sigh, obviously playing his theatrical role well, as he reached for his cane and pushed himself up. He took the cup carefully in one hand and limped forth, then smiled weakly at her.

"If you offer me a ride home I will. I am serious when I tell you I will not have this cup accidentally fall and break. And as I only have one good hand to use and a long way to go I don't wish to risk it. So how about it then?"

He eyed her intently. His dark eyes somewhat mischievous as they rested upon her form, as if he was undressing her in his dark mind. In truth he was trying to hide his anxiousness at losing the cup and was cradling it close like had it been a baby.

"You drive me home nice and safe, and I tell you what I told her. I'll share it all," he paused before her name erotically rolled from his tongue, "Emma."


	2. Chapter 2

**Ice Cream 2**

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Emma's charcoal eyes surveyed the cup which he held so gently in his hand, making note of a seeming affection she did not deem him capable of until today. She had a theory about the cup, which made her empathize with him in a way he could never know.

Him asking her to drive him seemed reasonable enough, even though she _did_ catch his flirty tone when he said her name. But she could humor him just this once.

"Would you prefer the bug or the cop car?" she asked with a playful smile.

His lips twitched for a moment, almost forming a smile, as he made his choice. "The bug please. Though a cop car can be very exciting. But having recently been in one, cuffed, I'll have to choose the first option. It's more.. homey."

"Well, I'd hope so," Emma replied with a smirk.

He limped past her with the cup cradled to his chest. He had everything with him and was ready to leave, and so he hobbled by her side.

"Thank you," He said as they arrived at the car and he took place in the passenger's seat. He smiled at her as he buckled his belt, then cradled his cup close again in a way similar to Gollum in the Lord of the Rings movies. Oddly enough, as he caressed the cup, his lips seemed to whisper just that word: _precious_. After a moment of calming down he smiled and looked at her.

"I appreciate the ride, sheriff."

She climbed into the driver's seat of the car and slammed the door shut. The entire rust bucket rang from the impact, making her roll her eyes as she buckled up.

"This car is so old it could give the items in your antiques shop a run for their money."

She pulled out of the station parking lot and into the street.

Mr Gold stared in front of him for a while with only his lips curling happily at her remark. His fingers still gingerly stroked the edge of his tea cup.

"Well, I owe you a reply." he said, heaving his chest but not looking at her. "I gave her my name."

He smiled up at the sight of the road in front of him. "I gave Regina the confirmation she was hoping for. She now knows I know." He clicked his tongue pensively. " I know about her. I remember."

Emma kept waiting for him to say something else, but when she realized that was the totality of his response, she felt stupefied by it.

"Your... name?"

He raised a brow.

"Yes, my name."

What was weird about it? He wondered, for it was the truth and nothing but the truth he had spoken to her. She had wanted to know and asked.

Emma knew it was the truth, which is exactly _why_ she felt stupefied by it.

"So... '...?'"

He frowned at her and studied her facial expression for any signs of what was to come next, but she was clearly waiting for a reply of his side, and he folded his hands around the cup firmly as his face hardened.

"Yes, I am Mr Gold. But you shall see that when you ask the right questions you will get revealing answers, Emma." he breathed her name as his brown eyes darted to her and back to the road in turn.

"It seems we can stop here for a moment." he said as they neared Mary Margaret's apartment. "I hope you don't mind me intruding, but I am anxious to see that blanket of yours, and you can take this opportunity to ask me 'the right' questions."

Emma slammed on the brakes, making the rust bucket screech to a halt. She fixed Mr. Gold with an incredulous stare.

"_Seriously?_" she demanded, though there was no anger in her voice, just surprise. "Why are you so god-damn adamant about seeing that blanket in the first place?"

Her eyes then fell on his cup, that fragile little enigma, and she may have gotten her answer at that moment. She felt just as adamant about learning of its importance as Mr. Gold appeared to be about seeing her baby blanket. And she wanted to learn about the cup so she could learn more about him. So could the reason be mutual on both sides?

His brown eyes stared back into hers.

"Yes, seriously." he retorted. "I think you know just why."

He could tell by the look on her face, and the way she'd eyed his cup, that she was feeling a similar curiosity and would act on that. He had her in his pocket, so he thought, for she would take him inside and he'd be spending a little more time with her.

"That is, if you don't mind being alone with me in your apartment. I know Miss Blanchard isn't home just yet. But all I want is to look at your baby blanket, Emma. No dishonorable intentions, I swear." The moment he said so he regretted it.

The moment he said it, Emma's eyes grew wide and she laughed out loud. She felt herself turning pink _again,_ and looked away quickly in a desperate attempt to hide it.

"I wasn't thinking... _that,_" she muttered, still looking away. Finally, she turned back, smiling cockily, now feeling a little more embarrassed for _him_ than for herself. "Fine. You've got your wish, but don't forget that now you owe me an explanation about that cup."

She took her foot off the brakes and turned into Mary Margaret's driveway.

Mr Gold got out quite decently after she'd parked the car and by the support of his cane, on which he leaned heavily, he managed to limp to the door and waited for her to open it. He allowed her to enter first, always the gentleman, and hobbled behind her.

Once in her living room he put down his cup gently and took off his coat before waiting for permission to set himself on the couch. His brown eyes showed his eager expectations.

"Lovely apartment, very Mary Margaret." He commented. "Have you ever considered getting a house for your own?"

"Yes, her decorative style is very unique. Personally, I've never been too good with... aesthetics. And I've tried, at first, but there didn't appear to be too many vacancies in this town. And by many, I mean none."

Emma watched him undress with a mild interest she herself did not notice, then took his coat from him and hung it up before taking off her own. Then she motioned him to sit on the sofa.

"I'll be right back," she said, then disappeared into her bedroom.

As Mr Gold got himself seated he wondered if Emma had disappeared into her bedroom to change into something more comfortable and would come out as a real temptress, seducing him on the couch and have his wretched day end blissfully. Naturally his thoughts were going too far and he quickly straightened his tie as he tried to focus on something else and waited for her to return.

Emma came out of her bedroom, _dressed as before,_ but carrying her baby blanket, which was knit from white wool and had the word "Emma" stitched onto it in purple silk. Gold looked distracted to her, so she held the blanket out in front of him.

His brown eyes lit up and the corners of his lips twitched but he could not smile fully. He would have by the smile she had on her face, but it were her words that were so bitter-sweet that he did not find it in him to smile. Instead he studied the blanket and watched her step very close to him.

"Well, here it is," she began, then paused. What she was about to tell him she had only told one person before in her life, and that was Henry, her only relative and the only one she felt she could trust with the truth. She wavered, but she knew she promised Gold she would tell him. Besides, in return she would finally learn about that cup. "When I was a newborn... my parents abandoned me... on the side of a highway. This blanket was the only thing I had on me."

She laughed suddenly, a hollow, bitter laugh. "I guess they at least had the decency to wrap me up before throwing me out like garbage."

At her last few words Mr Gold reached out for her hands and caught her wrists, holding them as he looked up and into her eyes. His lips parted in a sigh and his eyes softened.

At the very moment he touched her, Emma felt the intense desire to distance herself as she had done her entire life, but she told herself not to be a coward and run. If she wanted to be a mother to Henry, if she wanted to show him affection, she first had to learn to accept affection from others. Even those as seemingly unlikely to give it as Mr. Gold.

So she stayed, and allowed him to draw her a little closer.

"Perhaps they had been left with no other choice, Emma." Mr Gold whispered his words to her as he drew her closer. "Don't ever think of yourself as garbage for you are not."

He wanted to touch the blanket but did not dare to. He knew the item must be holy to her. And such a lovely item it was. He knew he owned the cradle to which this blanket belonged, it was right up in his shop. Snow's cradle for Emma.

"Such a lovely name." he murmured, his eyes back on the letters on the blanket.

"Don't give up hope, Emma." His eyes twinkled as they returned to find hers. "Your parents did not leave you empty-handed."

"How can you say that... when all they left me was a blanker... and a name," she said coldly, her face set like steel in her bitterness.

His fingers curled around the skin of her wrists, clinging onto her almost, as a breathless whisper left his lips. "A name is the most powerful thing. It's like magic. It was the most wonderful thing they could have given you."

He drew her close now, not fully unintentionally pulling her onto his lap, he wanted to hold her but wasn't sure if she would let him. Yet he subtly tried.

She did not know how it happened, but suddenly there she was, sitting in his lap. He held his hands idly on either side of her, though he looked desperate to put them to good use. Again Emma felt the comfort, the familiarity of their closeness, but finally she succumbed to her fear. She got up from his lap hastily and sat down on the sofa beside him instead. Was it true then? Did he really have feelings was her? Or was it all a manipulation? He _had_ manipulated her before, after all.

Having regained her composure, she decided to completely ignore what just happened and move on to the new matter at hand. She motioned at his cup.

"I've told you about my blanket, so now it's your turn to tell me about the cup. But may I share a theory with you first?"

He looked at her. "What's your theory, Emma?"

Emma relaxed a little and smiled at him gently, hoping her theory was true because then it would give her a reason to - Never mind. There was nothing between them, never will be. Then again...

She shook the thoughts from her head.

"Remember after Graham died, you offered me some of his things? Including a pair of walkie-talkies for me to play with Henry?"

He frowned, wondering what she was getting at.

"Yes," He said pensively whilst raising a brow. "I remember that..."

"Well, ever since you said how fleeting the moments we spend with children are, I could not stop wondering if you, well... had a child. And maybe the 'her' the cup belonged to was a... was a daughter?"

She fell silent then, heart beating with expectation.

His lips pursed and eyebrow quirked. The frown on his face indicated that she was onto something here.

"No, Not a daughter. I've never had a daughter." He whispered, sighing.

"The girl who chipped it was Moe French's daughter. He made a deal with me and the price was to have his daughter act as a caretaker of my house. She came to live with me, cleaned the house, made me tea." He gestured at the cup. "On her very first day she dropped that cup and it chipped. We-" he halted, "What we had was special. She thought herself in love with me and I wouldn't believe it so I sent her away. The result was that her father locked her up and beat her, and she committed suicide."

He pursed his lips and seemed to lose himself in thought. "I've always kept the cup."

He had deliberately not told her about his son yet, about his past. But he somehow could sense that she would suspect he had been a father and that she would ask sooner or later about it.

Emma nodded gravely. She knew what it felt like to deem yourself unworthy of being loved and then to blame yourself if a tragedy were to occur to your loved one. She could tell Gold blamed himself for what happened to the girl, otherwise he would not have kept the cup all this time. She still blamed herself for Graham's death, and now she wore his badge.

She knew there was something not entirely truthful to Gold's story, but it was honest enough, so she did not feel the need to push him any further. She did, however, feel the sudden desire to take his hand in her own and tell him it was not his fault, but she could not bring herself to do it. Instead, "May I see it?" she asked. She just wanted to inspect the cup, remark how its beauty must have reflected that of the one who chipped it, and then hand it back to him before moving on to the subject of Regina.

"If I may see yours." he said with a small smirk, gently handing her the cup as he took her baby blanket. He sniffed it, taking in her scent and the faint traces of old fairy tale land. His eyes closed as he murmured.

"Emma, you are remarkable."

He slipped the blanket out of her lap before she even had the time to protest. True, she would have let him see it either way, but the idea of it being forcefully taken from her made her shaky. Nevertheless, she now held his dearest possession in her hand, feeling its weightless fragility and inspecting its intricate design.

"It's beautiful," she said gently, "as I'm sure was the one who chipped it."

She turned to hand it back to him, only to see his face buried in the very essence of her childhood. Her hand twitched and the cup slipped out of her fingers, to come crashing down onto the hard wooden floor.

Being half-buried in her blanket, he only heard the crash before he saw it, and his brown eyes flew open wide in rage as he realized what had just occurred. His cup. His brilliant irreplaceable token of love, had been shattered.

Emma jumped in horror. Her eyes darted first to the heap of china on the floor, then to Gold. As she expected, he looked positively possessed by fury. Her lips parted as she sought for something to say, but what was there to be said? Nothing.

With his hands as fists around her baby blanket he looked at her, fire raging in his eyes and his teeth gritted. Mr Gold growled at the blonde sheriff.

"Do you realize what you have done?"

He needn't ask. There was nothing to do to fix this. She'd dropped his cup. Her expression, though, was similar to that of Belle the day she had dropped the cup. Instead of softening his emotions it made his rage only worse and he shouted at her.

"Have you any idea what you've just done?"

He flung his arms at her and trapped her against the sofa, nose inching closer. Her baby blanket was still in his left hand, pressed against the sofa's arm as he loomed over her and snarled at her. For a man his size he was incredibly strong.

"The only thing I had left to love.." His voice weakened but took on a coarse edge. "Now there's nothing for me left."

Her face took on a rigid, disapproving expression. She was not sure what was making her angrier, the way he was handling her, or the way he was handling her fragile blanket. Her fists were clenched on the collar of his dress shirt, but she did not try to fight him off, knowing it would only fuel his fury.

"Is there?" she finally breathed at him testily.

He scowled at her and shifted his weight, his body still pressed down on her hard and trapped her to the couch. His brown eyes were hard as they penetrated her, searching her for an answer to her question. When he found none he dipped his head and crashed his lips to hers hard. It was the only answer he wanted to give.

The kiss was demanding, forceful and full of his dominance. And as he retreated, pulled back from her, the anger was still visible in his eyes. He slid off the couch on his sore knee and groaned in pain, then started to collect the bits and pieces that had been left.

"A man without sentiment is the worst enemy to fear." he said as he tried to recollect his thoughts as he did the cup.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had hoped that would be his reply. She was fully ready to receive it, to be overwhelmed by it, though she knew she would not reciprocate. She expected it to be full of anger, passion, maybe even hatred, but the last thing she expected was for the taste, the smell of him to feel so _familiar._ It was a case of deja vu unlike any she had exprerinced before, and she had no explanation for it.

When he had finally released her, she sat up on the sofa and buried her face in her hands, racking her memory, but the feeling of deja vu passed as suddenly as it had overtaken her. So she turned her attention to her baby blanket, which lay in a heap on the arm of the sofa where Gold had left it. She straightened it out, folded it, and lay it gently on the cushion beside her. Then she knelt on the floor before Gold and began to help him pick up what remained of his cup.

"You are not without sentiment," she told him.

With shaking hands he tried to collect all the pieces as he glanced at her. His lips curled into a snarl. "What makes you say that?"

He'd almost used her name but it was too delicious to pronounce and somehow felt like it didn't fit in this situation. He was actually angry with her.

The vein on his forehead was throbbing as his brown eyes locked with hers. His left hand caught her wrist and stilled her movements.

It looked as if he was about to say something but then changed his mind and collected the last pieces.

"Have you got a bag? I'd like to take this home and try to mend it."

Emma poured the pieces she had picked up from her hand into his.

"I have a bag," she said, getting up and walking over to her handbag, from which she pulled out a tiny cloth change purse. She emptied whatever quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies were inside, then brought the purse over to him. "And I say that because for one you blame yourself for the girl's death." As he reached for the purse, she gently took a hold of his wrist, steadying his hand where it was. "Are you sure you want to hold on to the pieces?"

His eyes stared daggers at her.

"I do _not_ blame myself." He said through gritted teeth. "It's all Mr French's doing. He was her father, he abandoned her, hurt her."

His eyes turned wide in horror as he mirrored Moe French's behavior to his own in the past. Baelfire... How he missed his son.

Sadness appeared in his expression now as he yanked his wrist out of her grip. "I need this." He murmured, cradling the porcelain pieces as delicate relics and placing them gently into the bag, even the tiniest of shards was added.

"Just like you need your baby blanket, Emma."

Emma's expression softened into sympathy as she watched him pour the shattered pieces into the purse she gave him. She glanced back at her blanket lying so neatly folded on the sofa behind her, her thoughts wandering to what Henry had told her about Mary Margaret and David.

"I suppose if I ever find my parents, I won't need that blanket anymore," she said with a small smile.

He looked up at her. "You suppose?" Then he frowned.

"Your blanket is like a relic. Even if you found them would you want to throw it away?" He shook his head, brown hair dancing.

"Keep it, Emma, keep it." He got up with some effort and leant heavily on his cane as he smiled at her, a painful grin.

"It's not childish to have something to cherish." His eyes fell to the floor at that as he wondered what it was that Henry must be cherishing. The book he'd given to Mary? His eyes darted back to Emma.

"You could bring me home now." he wanted to fix his cup.

"Hold on," Emma stated, taking a step toward him. "You promised to tell me what you told Regina earlier."

He turned to face her wearily, a small fatigued smile on his face. "My name, Emma. My true name."

He thought she wasn't ready for it yet for she hardly believed the boy about the fairy tale theory, and grinned painfully.

"We all have more than a surname, dear."

She had a feeling she would not like what she was about to hear, but she was not one to let something regarding Regina slide.

"So what is it then, your _given_ name?"

His lips curled in a combination of a painful smile and a snarl as he bared his unkempt teeth at her. She could see it was hard for him to give this away, but he was not one to lie. Not ever.

The wrinkles near his eyes and on his forehead increased at the difficulty of pronouncing this confession and could only speak with reluctance.

"_Rumplestiltskin_."

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AU: Thank you all for your reviews.

**Kendra Luehr**: Can you imagine none of it is edited XD? It's a copy and paste.

**DragonRose4**: He will share as much as he can. If he doesn't want to share the information he would just keep his lips shut or dance around the subject with his words, I am sure =) I am glad liked it

**BlooperLover**: There is more to this, but I am not certain if I should post it or leave it at this. What would you say? There are a lot of nice Gemma stories out there so I am not certain if this one is actually needed XD


	3. Chapter 3

** Ice Cream 3/3 **

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There was a long silence during which Emma simply stared while her eyebrows crept steadily up her forehead, but then out of nowhere she burst out laughing like she had not laughed in a long time.

"_Rumplestiltskin?_" she demanded through her laughter. "Have you been talking to Henry about his storybook? You know, he told me you're the only person he was unable to place in fairytale land. But I think he'll like your Rumplestiltskin theory."

Emma continued laughing, trying to mask her fear of the knowledge that _somehow_ Mr. Gold had told her the truth.

Mr Gold eyed her darkly and pursed his lips. The lines on his forehead now became more visible and his whole face wrinkled in displeasure.

He remained silent until he was certain his words, or rather the harsh reality, had sunk in and only then parted his lips in an exasperated yet inaudible sigh.

"Alas, perhaps it became time you started to believe in the boy, put your faith in him. I know you're the kind that needs proof to see things, and that is why I admire you so, Emma. You have that redeeming quality not many of us have. Henry doesn't have it. He can sense things and knows them to be so. He needs no other proof. But you," His dark eyes set upon her frame. "You can save lives by the way you observe and take charge. You are what Storybrooke needs. You are what I need, Emma."

His hands was on his chest, solemnly so, but then as he realized that the shards in his bag were making their presence known even through the thick fabric of the bag itself, against his chest, he knew it was time to go and quickly lowered his hand. With a curt nod he deftly stepped out of the apartment.

As he walked past her and out the door, Emma was left standing quite still, her head cocked to the side, her lips parted, and her eyes in utmost concentration on nothing in particular. Her mind reeled. Did he honestly believe what Henry was saying about the book was true? Was he _deranged?_ Of course, there _was_ one reasonable explanation, an explanation that made her blood boil.

She ran into the doorway before Mr. Gold had the time to make it down the first flight of stairs.

"Did Regina put you up to this?"

Mr Gold cradled the bag of shards close and glared up at her. "Miss Swan, Please," he purred. He understood fully she had a hard time trusting him and he knew she'd better not. But when it came to words he was anything but a liar and never would a false truth pass his lips.

His stern gaze told her enough, yet he felt like clarifying by the use of words.

"You should know better than that. I merely answered your question. This is what I told her and this is what I tell you. You asked for the name I told her and I gave you the exact same reply. Your instinct should tell you what's right and what's wrong."

with lips tightly pressed he tried to descend the stairs but was hindered.

"Emma, has it ever crossed your mind Henry might be right?"

"Of course it has," Emma replied, stepping out the doorway. "I want more than anything to believe him, but ultimately I can't. I mean, what he says is impossible." She approached the top of the stairs. "But you, are you trying to tell me you trust him?"

He looked at her with a lick of the lips, head slightly tilted, and studied her facial expression. "Yes," He finally said, "Emma, I trust him. Why can't you?"

Emma blinked at his question. "Because it's impossible? Because his only proof is a children's book? Because he's ten years old, for Christ's sake!" With each sentence she had taken a step down the stairs, so that now she stood quite close to him, looking into his face, studying every feature, taking note of every flick of the eyes. "But if you can give me irrefutable proof, any proof whatsoever, I'll be willing to reconsider."

"The proof's abundant, Emma." Mr Gold said calmly. "I'm surprised you haven't found it yet. Here, let me help you."

With the hand in which he also held the bag containing the cup shards he took her by the wrist and started tagging her along.

"We'll go by your car. You promised to drop me home, sheriff." He reminded her. "There I will show you your proof."

He ushered her to the car and took his place in the passenger's seat.

Emma got into the driver's seat and shut the door, trying her best not to slam it this time. The car still shuddered violently from the force. Cringing, she buckled up and pulled out of the parking lot.

"It's scary to think how many nights I've spent in this car."

He looked at her with compassion. "You won't have to anymore."

During the ride he remained silent and as soon as they arrived at his salmon colored home he led her up the stairs and urged her to come inside. Once the door was closed behind her back he took off his gloves, the bag with the shards neatly placed on a table, and hurriedly limped to a nearby cupboard.

He revealed an album and handed it to her.

"Well?" He looked expectantly at her and licked his lips.

Inside the album photos were held of a very young Henry. Photos of him and his class. And as the years went by his fellow schoolmates seemed to change and change. He was never in class with the same children.

Gold licked his lips again. "Is that prove enough for you?"

Emma flipped through the album, with every page her expression becoming more and more quizzical. When she finally looked back at Gold, however, her face showed greatest distrust.

"And why exactly," she said in a low, cold whisper, "do you have an album... full of photos... of my son?"

Mr Gold fell silent and tapped the tips of his fingers together as he weighed her words. What should he reply in the situation he currently was in? The truth?

"Because I know Henry's right, Emma. And I know you needed convincing."

Emma knew that was not the full truth. Part of it, yes, but she could feel Gold was hiding something. She put the book down on a shelf and took a step toward him until they were eye-level with each other. Her fingers rested gently on the gun on her hip.

"I'm gonna ask you again - just once - why you have been taking pictures of my son since the day he was born."

His brown eyes darted to the gun on her belt and then back up to her again. He knew she was serious and wouldn't hesitate to harm him if she felt she must. Even a blunt blow to the head would suffice.

He wasn't keen to await her actions and with a slight tilt of the head peeked at her from the corners of his eyes.

"It is as I said. You're of great value to our future, Emma. I've been keeping an eye on the boy, making sure he would be safe."

Nice twist around things, he thought. He wasn't lying yet he still wasn't telling her the full truth. At the moment he didn't think she could handle it.

Emma sighed, her expression softening into defeated pity.

"Let me let you in on a secret, Mr. Gold. I have an ability - a gift, you can say - to know when someone is lying to me. And right now I know you're not lying, so you must honestly believe that what you're saying is _true._ Which can only mean one thing... that you're insane. Which is a pity because we could've..." She trailed off, searching his eyes for something, _anything_ that would prove her wrong. Not finding it, she took his photo album in her hands and headed toward the door. She paused in the doorway, however, just long enough to say, "Stay away from me, Gold, _and_ my son," then after a thought, "And sorry for breaking your cup."

Mr Gold watched her as she stood in the doorway, pensively, and hung his head as she disappeared from view. It befell him hard that he could not say it out loud but he knew she wasn't ready yet. And even if she ever were ready he doubted he should let her in on the truth. Would she ever be able to handle it, to handle him? Only if his plan failed and for some reason they would end up in fairy tale land, only then he could imagine she would have to know. But if Henry's skin would betray even the slightest tint of gold he didn't even have to try telling. It would be clear to her.

He let out a gasp, a pitiful sigh almost, and clenched his hands into fists.

"My son," he whispered to himself, "_our son_."

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**AU:** So there it is everyone. This was the result of our first 2 topic posts. If you want to see Gold and Emma together you should read our follow-up "Believing Is a Damn Hard Enterprise". The reason I post the continuation as a new fanfic is because during our role play Mr Gold changed a bit. You'll see why. So review and read the other story for more. I'll post the first part very soon -winks-


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